Flutter
by Thinkette
Summary: There was old love on her mattress, the kind he knew she remembered, the kind he knew they left together. So they forgot the "one" part in "one night stand", the "one" part in "just one more". Sting certainly wasn't going to complain. (Unashamed Smut.)


_"But I needed one more touch, another taste of heavenly rush. I believe, I believe.  
>The fever began to spread, from my heart down to my legs.<br>But the room is so quiet."_

Her mouth was hot.

_She_ was hot, and it felt like everything was burning and Sting felt a drop of sweat slide down his side as she bit at his lower lip. As calculating as ever, she fisted his hair in one hand while tugging away with the flesh still between her teeth, grinding down carefully. He groaned, leaning forward to try to keep contact, chasing her mouth. He felt like if he stopped kissing her, he would never get the chance again. Something so desperate, a need for continuation.

He drummed his fingers over the skin of her guild mark, taking in the softness of her hip that betrayed the otherwise icy exterior. And, in reply, her thighs, previously wrapped around his waist, squeezed hard enough to catch his breath, heels digging into his lower back. With her ankles locked behind him, strong fingers curled around his shoulder with the nails digging in, he had no hope of escape.

No desire for any, as well.

He panted as she pulled him away from her mouth completely, tapered eyes glinting before she unfastened her legs and used them to switch their positions. When his back hit the mattress, she dug her knees into the purple sheets on either side of him and settled on his belly, inching back just to tease him. Minerva didn't waste time lifting the blonde's chin and bending her back so she could flatten her tongue against the thin skin of Sting's neck, locating his jugular easily and sucking at the spot sweetly. He bit at the inside of his cheek, desperately trying not to rut against her to relieve his aching erection.

"Please…" he whispered, keeping as still as he could, a trembling hand yearning to palm her ass or slide through her halo of hair, to push her on her belly so he could press open mouthed kisses to her spine or rub a thumb over her hardening nipples. He wasn't above begging for those acts, especially when he knew how much she loved it.

"No," she said, quickly, scraping her top teeth over his quickening pulse. "I want to play with you."

"Minerva," he ground out, forcing his hips down deeper into the bed to prevent bucking up as she trailed hickies across his collarbones. Her free hand stroked his side, and she licked her way down his torso. She felt the how tense his muscles were under her tongue. Smirking, she ghosted her hand over his cock, still in his boxer-briefs. She wanted to make him whimper, but he was holding as best he could to pride.

"You're being stubborn," she claimed when she pulled away from his chest, hovering over him and letting her hair fall like a curtain. He clamped teeth down over his puffing lower lip, breathing sharply through his nose when she trailed her fingers over his arousal. His cock twitched when he saw her smirk, cruelly, stroking him softly through the fabric of his underwear, not hard enough to cause adequate friction.

His threw his head to the side, desperate not to arch into her hand. She looked down at him, amused at the state she was pushing him to. Bending down, she teethed at the flesh under his chin, lips brushing against his adam's apple. There was something particularly erotic about watching him battle with his pride, and losing to her.

Call it a power complex, but she got off on having the upper hand. Though, at that point, it was hard to tell if she got her kicks from that or just from the blonde she was above. Regardless, she gave him a good, firm stroke and soaked in the pleased noise he made before she stopped entirely. When he looked up at her, almost questioning, her eyes sparkled with just enough of a sadistic edge to warn him. Without any preamble, she stood from the bed, her naked body snaking over to a drawer. Bending over deliberately to expose herself, she rummaged through it before she grabbed hold of a silicone ring, twirling it around her finger.

His breath caught in his throat, and he felt his blush spread to his chest, legs shaking as she made her way back. She took notice immediately, a grin spreading over her face. She held eye contact with him when she set it down and grabbed his knees, tugging him to the edge of the bed before spreading them as she kneeled down. She leaned forward, breathing a puff of hot air over his underwear covered cock, then pooling some saliva over her tongue and pushing it against the fabric.

It took everything in him not to whip his hands out and tangle his palms in her locks and press her face into his crotch, but he held firm. She laughed, just dark enough to drip through the room, a rich noise pooling into his skin. Two slim fingers slipped between his boxer-briefs and hip-bones, and she slid the material down and off, exposing him completely. Some of her spit had saturated the front of them, and soaked through, so she blew cool air over the wetness on his dick, watching him shiver.

He was hard and there was no getting around that. She knew his body by now better than anyone else, and she let a nail scrape, ever so gently, only to tease, over the vein at the underside of his member, following it with her tongue. His mouth opened, a guttural noise falling out from behind his throat. When she got to the head, she sucked at it for only a second, pulling away to grab the silicone ring once more. She positioned it correctly and rolled it down to the base, smiling in satisfaction.

Sting could have killed her for everything she was doing to him, winding him up and then making sure he wouldn't even cum without her permission. But there was nothing she was doing that he hadn't agreed on prior. Besides which, he had watched her eyes darken until her entire iris looked black with a thin ring of forest green, and he knew that she was just as aroused as he was.

Without making another sound, or wasting another moment, she climbed back on the bed. Grasping his dick in her hand, she spread her thighs open to rub him against her clit, two of her fingers holding her open. He finally succumbed, arching into her, the wetness hot on the crown of his cock.

"Mmm," she hummed, her eyelids lowering as she used him. He moaned, fingers twitching to touch her, if even for a second. Cautiously, he tried to grab her hip again, only for her to break into another venomous smirk. She let go of his member and shoved his arm back down to the mattress. Instead, he watched her knee crawl over him, passing his bellybutton and chest, only stopping when she was hovering over his face, her knees on either side of his head.

"Eat me," she commanded, the very thought making his dick jump. She lowering her hips and spread her legs farther to make the job easier on the blonde. He let his tongue run over his lips before obeying, licking a stripe from clit to vagina, circling around the opening and tasting how wet she was. He knew he had to wait until she either let him use his hands or until she was too far gone to care about keeping him still to finger her and get her off properly, so for the time being, he had to work with what he had. He traced around her opening for a moment, dipping his tongue in shallowly and thrusting it in and out before retreating and licking around her again, repeating the motions.

It didn't take her too long to start circling and she snarled, thrusting down savagely. It effectively gave Sting barely enough space to slide deeper inside of her, and he tried finding her g-spot, but the position was still uncomfortable, and he just didn't have the leverage that he really needed.

Taking a risk, he let his hands whip out; hoping she would just let him have the small amount of control it took to wrap his arms over her thighs. He used the hold to push her down even farther, pressing his face into her pussy as he licked her open. He heard her bitten back gasp and the slight rattle that meant that she had grabbed the headboard, and took it as the go ahead to start being more active. Letting go of one of her legs to suck at the tips of two fingers, he started to rub her clit again as he tongued her. Above him, she was letting out small huffs, little pants as her grip tightened on the headboard, and her legs started to tremble with the effort of keeping herself up.

Sting, feeling her muscles under his palm, stopped everything he was doing and listened in to the warning growl the woman threw him. He smiled, kissing her inner thigh before he pushed her away and sat up, letting her ass hit the mattress and relieving the strain. She managed to turn herself around just as he did, and he shuffled closer. There was a tense moment when he hesitated to say or do anything, but he looked at her, blue eyes earnest.

"I want to kiss you," he said, his lower lip shining with her slickness. She felt a shiver rush down between her legs and tried reaching out to cup the back of his neck and force him to her mouth again, but he leaned away and she realized that he was asking for more than just that.

She looked over his face, taking in the scar through his eyebrow and the pink over his face, his drooping, messy hair. She nodded, just once and he smiled in relief, pressing them together and palming her face, squishing a few strands of her loose, long hair between their skins. She felt how hard he was against her, the cock ring no doubt torturous and she waited for his kiss, accepting it without a dely.

It was soft, almost uncharacteristically so, and tender, a bit. She could barely taste herself through their closed lips, but when she opened her mouth to let him in, it got stronger. He let one hand go from her face to move downward between them. Minerva felt his thumb locate her clitoris, rubbing languidly as he inserted his middle finger inside her, curling it and looking for the rough spot on her walls. She let him slide his other hand to the back of her head, let him tangle her hair, even encouraged it.

Slowly, she lowered her hand down and settled it over his own between her legs, carefully guiding him to the tender spots inside of her that had her shaking, unable to release all of her control in the situation. But there was no doubt that she was, for once, submitting, even just a bit. Sting appreciated that, and he rubbed her a little harder, spelling out the alphabet and making little loops, taking cues from her as to what was successful and what wasn't. When she gave him the go ahead to push in another finger, he curled them over her g-spot, fucking in and out of her. She pulled away from their make out when she began to spasm, her stomach muscles crunching and toes curling, and it wasn't long before she gasped, cumming over both their palms.

He kissed down her neck, letting her ride out her orgasm, but he couldn't ignore how painful his erection was becoming when he imagine her walls clenching around his cock instead of his fingers. So, he gently pulled at her hair, and her relaxed muscles responded by having her head fall back. Her eyes looked glazed, and her mouth was gaped open. He pulled his fingers out and saw her swallow as she locked eyes with him, closing them as she leaned her face up. Her invitation for more.

She wasn't usually so considerate. There had been times when she'd tease him to the brink and left him there, grinning at how desperate he was to get off. On the flip side, there were also times when all she wanted was for him to fuck her, quickly, effectively, and she would just clean his cum out of her in the shower, thankful for her birth control.

But it felt different than that. Not loving, not yet, but less cold or kinky than usual. He didn't think about that small token she gave him, that invitation in depth, not until later.

So for the time being, he kissed her, again, and wormed his hands under her thighs to lift her up so she was sitting on his lap. When they pulled apart again, she was looking down at him and taking advantage of her new elevation, he set his mouth between her breasts and sucked, bruising the skin, a mark she let him place.

It got her squirming, just barely, especially when he began to play with her nipples. But all his motions were choppy, rushed. He was getting desperate, needy for his release and he looked up at her, pleadingly.

"Minerva, please," he asked, once more, his face burning, his cock throbbing. 'Please, let me take this off', 'Please, let me just _have_ you'. And instead of a verbal answer, she grabbed his dick, her arm muscles protesting when she stroked the head a few times. But it was worth it when she took in his unabashed moaning.

"Oh, you want it so bad, Sting," she said, gaining back some of her fire as she pumping him.

"God, Minerva, yes. So bad, oh god," he called out, bucking up. He was done with restraint. He needed her, and he could only hope she would be merciful. It was a shame he closed his eyes just then, giving in to the soothing motions of her palm, because he missed the affectionate look she gave him, something not even she could hold back on her face, not after her orgasm. His forehead was covered in sweat, and his arms felt like steel with how hard he was clenching his muscles.

So, she lifted up her hips and pushed him inside of her, thankful for his previous ministration, slicking her up further and easing the stretch. In fact, she downright purred as he filled her and sunk down fully, lapping up his thankful moans and sweet nothings, his praises.

It was nothing to circle her body around him, having him brush against her g-spot as he gave little thrusts in and out of her, entirely involuntary. And after just a few minutes, she started to really heat up again, and, throwing everything to the wind, she went ragdoll in his lap, throwing her arms around him. And god, he almost growled, bouncing her on his cock, taking in how much this moment was _theirs_, instead of just hers. He pulled out, throwing her onto the mattress and mirroring the position they had started out in. She scraped down his back when he entered her again, trying to hold back from taking the damn ring off until she came again. But when her pussy started fluttering around him, he had enough.

He exited her, the bed squealing the entire time when he just went down and threw her legs over his shoulders, pulling off his cock ring and practically crying with relief. His orgasm had been building for a while, and dick was _aching_. Knowing he wouldn't last, he started stroking himself only when he thrust his fingers back inside Minerva, feeling her grab his hair and pull. Her body was shaking again, head no doubt being thrown side to side as she rocking into the mouth that was sucking on her clit, the hand that was finger fucking her to the rhythm of his masturbation.

Minerva wasn't a moaner, and she wasn't a screamer, so Sting was surprised when he heard a faint keen. Every muscle tensed up in her body when she came for the second time, her toes curling, back arching. She was the most erotic thing he had ever seen in his life. Hell, the sounds she was making on their own had him cum like a gunshot. He laid his head on her thigh as she squirted, dripping on to her purple sheets and his fingers, his own spunk coating his other hand.

"Fuck," he mumbled after a moment, moving away from her.

Minerva just hummed, seemingly involuntarily as everything in her body pooled into the mattress, sinking in. Sting wiped his hands off on the closest article of his clothing on the floor, which just happened to be his shirt. He set it back down then crawling his way back up to her face. He could only lean his weight on his elbows for a few seconds to take in how she looked. He knew if he tried to hold himself up with his hands he'd fall face first in a heartbeat. And if he didn't memorize her post-orgasmic haze, he would probably regret it for a while.

She was gorgeous, laying there. Her face was flushed completely, eyes sparkling and mouth open. Around her, the black sheaf of hair was spread unevenly, smelling of jasmine and sweat. The entire room smelled like sex but neither of them seemed to mind as they caught their breaths. He must have had something hopeful on his face, some sort of plea to stay, to pretend to be real lovers instead of just fuckers, because her dazed, happy look dulled, and as much as it killed her, she closed herself off as best she could, trying to keep her obvious satisfaction minimal on her face.

And he remembered who she was. Who he was and who **they** were and where **they** were and just **what **they were doing. They weren't lovers, no matter that she let go the upper hand and let him have her, trusted her with her body and **liked** it.

Not yet, he'd like to think. Though he was already there, she needed time, and space. He only let the disappointment flicker over his face when he fell to his side, landing heavily next to her. He wanted to hold her, feel her nuzzle into the crook of his neck and kiss the crown of her head.

He may be done with restraint, but she wasn't. He didn't even question it when she rolled to her side, exposing her spine. The ultimate sign to leave. So he stood up, holding back the sigh and gathered his clothes from the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, and thanked whoever would listen for the fact that Rogue just didn't ask questions anymore.

Throwing everything on sloppily, he scooped up the ring from where he tossed it on the floor and set it down on her bedside table. He was Guild Master now, but she would always be his Princess. He abided by her rules by choice, and he wasn't about to change that with some new title.

She didn't stir at the sound, and didn't seem to be affected by the wet spots she left on her sheets; the spots **they** left and **he** caused and **she** made. There was old love on her mattress, the kind he knew she remembered. They wouldn't have a routine if this was the first time.

He walked to the door, picking up his jacket, which was the first thing he took off, and the last thing he was allowed to strip off himself without her permission. A sign of his newfound position.

When he opened the door, he remembered her acceptance, her hesitance slowly becoming shorter and shorter. He had hope, and maybe that was naïve or what have you, but he thought they were getting somewhere. So Sting turned his head to look at her from over his shoulder, catching her gaze in the mirror she kept in the corner of her room, and smiled.

"Goodnight, my Lady," he said softly, allowing some adoration to color the words before closing the door behind him.

And after a moment, when his footsteps faded away, she replied "Goodnight," back.

_"My heart is a hollow plain for the devil to dance again, and the room is too quiet. _

_I was looking for a breath of life, a little touch of heavenly light. But the choirs in my head sang no,  
>no,<br>no."  
>~Florence and the Machine<em>

* * *

><p><strong>So, um, pleasedon'tjudgeme it's been a while since I wrote some down and dirty smut and I have <strong>**no idea if it's good or not butItried? **

**Reason: Because there will never be enough Stinerva for me. I crave the Stinerva. I need it. It has to happen. I'm invested. **


End file.
